Erase and Rewind
by Mazza666
Summary: IWTS Entry. Telepath Sookie Stackhouse is a doctor at the Facility, a high-security mental health hospital. One night a strange man is brought in with amnesia but is he all that he seems? One-shot. AU


**I Write the Songs Contest Entry**

**Title: Erase and Rewind**

**Characters: Sookie and Eric. Also Barry, Amelia, Hoyt, Niall, Fintan, Ocella, Octavia, Rene**

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters and I don't own the song either (well, I own a copy but I don't think that counts!) **

**Pen name: Mazza666**

**Beta name: slcurwin**

**Virgin writer: No**

**Multi-chapter: No**

**A/N: Inspired by the Cardigans song "Erase and Rewind". Thanks so much to slcurwin for all her hard work!**

_Niall closed his eyes in anguish as he tried to halt the bleeding, applying pressure to the wound that had ripped through Fintan's abdomen._

_There was just too much blood._

_His hands began to slip as it seeped through his fingers, dark and cloying, pooling on the cold ground underneath. It was no use; the iron had permeated the bloodstream and he could already sense his son's light beginning to ebb._

"_Forgive me," Niall whispered, his words catching, hot in his throat. _

"_No Father, this isn't your fault," Fintan rasped, clawing at his father's hand as the pain began to overwhelm him. "I was careless…He caught me off-guard."_

_Niall held his son, trying to soothe him. He felt an ache in his chest, so deep, that it seemed as if his heart might stop from the pain of it. _

"_Fintan," he pressed. "You need to tell me where they are."_

_Fintan struggled against his father to sit up, wincing as the fire spread through his body. Each shallow breath was more gruelling than the one before and he could taste his own blood gathering on his lips as they sought his father's ear. _

"_You must protect them," he urged. "Promise me."_

"_I promise you."_

_Niall sensed the dark figure of Fintan's murderer as he approached. The fairy prince drew his silver broadsword from its hilt, readying himself, as his son's body began to flake into the breeze._

0-0-0-0-0

I closed my eyes and held my face up to the sun, basking in its rays as I made the short walk across the open courtyard from my on-site apartment to the main hospital building. I felt, rather than heard, Barry come up behind me. As usual he'd tried blocking me with his mind, but his tall frame cast a shadow in the warm sun, warning me he was about to pounce. With a triumphant smile, I whirled around to face him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"How do you always do that?" he asked, incredulously.

"Barry, you're about as stealthy as a pregnant walrus," I teased. "Plus once I realise I'm being blocked - it has to be you."

"I'll get you one of these days," he assured me, grinning warmly.

"We'll see about that," I chuckled.

As we approached the main door, I removed my pass from my pocket and ran it through the reader. On the prompt, I leaned towards the retinal scanning device, opening my eye wide, waiting for the customary beep. The door opened with a groan, allowing us through.

"Morning Hoyt," I said cheerily, smiling at the security guard on duty as I emptied my pen and keys into the little plastic bowl. I took off my locket and placed it gently next to them.

"Morning, Doctor." He gave me a friendly grin before motioning for me to proceed through the full-body scanner.

I picked up my things at the other end, frowning slightly as I made my way into the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. The euphemistically-named Cedar Pines Interior Behaviour Hospital, dubbed "the Facility" by the military personnel that frequented here, felt more like an underground bunker than a progressive mental health treatment centre set in one of the leafiest parts of Louisiana. I had lobbied long and hard for more natural daylight, even presenting a long paper to the Board on the effects of sunlight on the recovery of victims of psychological trauma, but, as I'd been told time and again, windows were a security hazard. Most of our patients were military casualties, along with the odd celebrity or senator's daughter suffering from severe drug-induced mental health problems. Either way, security was high: nothing escaped the Facility, whether it was the patients themselves or the secrets they brought in with them.

"It was a fairly quiet night by our standards. But I had to sedate Major Bellefleur again…" Barry proceeded to update me as we made our way towards the patient wing.

I let out a sigh. After three tours in Afghanistan, Terry Bellefleur had one of the worst cases of PTSD that I'd ever seen. We were trying a new type of cognitive therapy with him, but his recovery was slow.

Barry's expression was grim. "I think we may need to up his medication."

I shook my head. "Let's try holding the meds for now but up his sessions to twice daily? I really did think we made some progress last week. …Anything else I need to know?"

His face lit up. "We also have a new patient."

I raised an eyebrow. We didn't usually admit patients at night, unless there was a genuine emergency. If there were an emergency, I would have expected Barry to wake me.

"Male, looks to be in his late twenties—"

"_Looks_ to be?" I asked curiously.

"Amnesia," Barry replied with a knowing smirk.

At 32 years old, with my combined doctorates in psychology and psychotherapy, and the added gift of my telepathy, I was one of the country's rising stars in trauma-induced mental health conditions. Schizophrenia, PTSD: these were my bread and butter, but Barry knew I loved the amnesia cases above all. Despite what second-rate soap operas would lead you to believe, amnesia was incredibly rare and it took a great deal of finesse to combine telepathy with the more traditional medical methods to help someone regain their memories.

"And you didn't wake me?" I whined.

"There really was no need," Barry assured me. "He was spotted running through town half naked. They were going to take him to County West, but he lashed out when one of Dearborn's deputies tried to get him in the car. Apparently he broke the deputy's arm..."

I shook my head, ruefully. "He was probably in shock. Were there any signs of trauma?"

"Nothing obvious." Barry shrugged. "Anyway, when they realised he didn't know who he was, Sheriff Dearborn had him brought here instead. He'd calmed down a little by then but I still gave him enough Thorazine to anaesthetise a baby elephant. He went out like a light just after dawn."

I frowned. It didn't seem like there was much that I could have done, but I still wished that Barry had involved me.

"I'm only supposed to wake you if it's a real emergency. I could handle it," Barry assured me, reading my thoughts.

I shot him a look. He wasn't supposed to read me unless I projected a thought at him. That was one of the rules.

"Don't do that," I snapped, instantly putting up my shields.

Barry sighed. "Look, Sookie, you don't get enough sleep as it is and you never leave this damn compound—"

"I leave the compound," I countered, stubbornly.

Barry stopped, putting a hand on his hip. "Oh yeah. When?"

I tried to cast my mind back. "I went to that hospital gala last month—"

Barry shook his head with disdain. "Sookie, that was _four_ months ago, and it was work-related. When was the last time you went on a date?"

"I don't have time to date. And like you can talk..." I scoffed. Dating and telepathy didn't exactly mix, as both Barry and I had found out to our detriment over the years. Barry still tried to dip his toe in the pool every now and again; I'd given up altogether.

"Hey, at least I get out of the Facility once in a while," he said, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed. He was right. I had no life: my parents were dead, I hadn't spoken to my brother in years, and I had no social life or friends outside of the hospital. Dawn, my assistant, even bought most of my clothes for me.

Barry gave me a rueful smile. "This place isn't all there is, Sook. And I'm here too..."

"I know, and I'm sorry." I gave his arm a squeeze of apology. "Why don't we go check in on our new arrival and you can fill me in on the rest?"

Barry led the way and I felt my expression darken as we entered the patient wing and encountered another mind, further down the corridor. I shuddered slightly as we walked past Rene Lenier mopping the floor. He flashed me a cold smile, as I tried, too late, to block out his thoughts.

"_That's it. That creep has to go_," Barry projected angrily at me, glaring at Rene over his shoulder.

"_You can't punish people just for thinking_," I pushed back, putting my hand on Barry's arm to calm him. "And anyway, I can look after myself," I added softly, but aloud.

Barry turned to me with a gentle smile. "I know you can, Sook, but that guy's more fucked up than most of our patients."

From the brief images I had taken from Rene's mind, I couldn't disagree with that. It certainly didn't help that I often seemed to be cast in the starring role in some of his darker fantasies. But Rene had undergone stringent security checks, including a telepathy test. His thoughts were more than a little misogynistic, no doubt about it, but that didn't automatically make him a danger to patients. And I knew he had two kids at home that he adored. If he did his job, and did it well, how could I fire him for simply using his imagination?

"And it's not just you, is it? What about Jannalyn? Dawn?" Barry urged, running a hand over his hair in agitation. "Look, I'll speak to Portia so she can tie off the legal side but I'm more than happy to be the one to do it."

"_Fine,"_ I acquiesced, projecting with a sigh. I didn't feel good about using knowledge gained from telepathy to ruin someone's livelihood but he was right: I also didn't want to endanger one of our employees, just to prove a point.

We approached the first of the patient rooms. There hadn't been anyone in here yesterday, so I assumed this was where we were keeping the amnesia case. I looked at the name written in green marker on the whiteboard by the door.

"Eric Northman?" I asked.

"He had a Louisiana driver's licence on him and some cash, nothing else. He didn't remember his name or seem to know where he'd come from. Nothing. The Sheriff's department is going to try the address... see if they can find a next of kin."

I nodded as Barry swiped his pass, opening the door.

I took a sharp intake of breath when I saw our new patient lying in the bed there. Barry cast me a quick sideways glance, which I ignored, thankful that my shields were still in place.

It was the hair I noticed first: long for a man, and golden blond like mine. It was splayed out on the pillow, framing his beautiful face like a halo. In the hum of artificial light, he looked as if he had a slight glow to his skin, making him seem even more ethereal. He was tall, well over six feet if I had to guess, and, even though most of his body was shrouded by blankets and a pale blue hospital gown, I could make out his broad shoulders and the taut muscles of his arms. I watched him for a second, so still and peaceful, and I knew that, even asleep, he was the most attractive man I had ever seen.

As I collected my thoughts, I felt my eyebrows knit together in an uneasy frown; something wasn't right. He seemed a little too still, too tranquil. I opened my shields for a second, reaching out for his mind, and let out a gasp before rushing over to the bed and taking the patient's wrist in my hand.

His arm was heavy, lifeless, and there was no pulse.

"Shit Barry," I hissed. "How much Thorazine did you give him?"

I pushed at his neck, trying desperately to find a pulse. Still nothing. Barry ran to the other side of the bed, cursing as he began compressions on the patient's chest. I tried to block out the panic racing through Barry's mind as I reached for a bag valve mask in the cart beside his bed, placing it over the patient's mouth, and began pumping air into his lungs.

"Mr. Northman?" I urged, using my free hand to shake him. "Mr. Northman?"

I heard a soft groan underneath the mask. Barry pulled his hands back in response and I lifted the mask. I tried shaking him again, harder this time. "Mr. Northman? Eric?"

He groaned again, muttering something groggy, indecipherable, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I tried his mind a second time. "I still can't hear him," I whispered anxiously to Barry. "It's like a void. There's nothing there but emptiness. Can you?"

"No," he admitted after a moment, holding his hands up in defeat. "Nothing. Fuck."

I shot Barry a worried look. "Have you ever—?"

He shook his head, knowing what I meant. "No. Never. Shit, Sookie... I mean some people are harder to read than others..." I nodded in agreement. "But I've never come across this before. It's like the amnesia totally wiped his mind."

I approached the patient again, placing two fingers over the pulse point at his neck, and drew back, flinching slightly as I registered how cold his skin was.

"He's freezing," I whispered, more to myself than Barry, pulling the covers up, trying to make him warmer.

I didn't know what to do; it was like the man was dead, but he had spoken to us. I suspected that once Barry's meds wore off, he would wake up and talk again.

I turned to Barry, his confused expression mirroring my own. "I'm going to run some tests. Can you do my rounds this morning?"

Barry nodded, never taking his eyes off our new patient. "What do you think is wrong with him?"

I exhaled frustratedly, smoothing my hands determinedly over my lab coat. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

0-0-0-0-0

I was sitting beside Mr. Northman's bed with my laptop. For the last couple of hours I'd been scanning medical journals, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. It was early evening and he was still unconscious. Not for the first time today, I cursed Barry and his overzealous attitude to sedating patients.

I'd spent most of the day observing our new arrival. Even after trying two different heart monitors, I couldn't find any kind of pulse, but I'd still managed to rouse the patient: once when we took a blood sample and again later by shaking him brusquely. He'd grumbled a little and then, seconds later, was out cold again.

I couldn't comprehend it. He was alive, for all intents and purposes, but every test confirmed that Eric Northman's heart wasn't beating.

I heard the beep as someone scanned their pass across the door to the room and reflexively lifted my shields to find out who it was. I cursed under my breath as I recognised Rene's internal mutterings. I glanced at him as he came in, trying to fix a smile in place, realising I felt a little nervous being in a confined space with him.

Barry had a point. We needed to let him go.

"Hello Rene," I said tightly.

"Sweet Sookie," he replied, a condescending grin creeping across his features.

I felt myself bristle in response. "Rene, I really think you should address me as Doctor Stackhouse..." I said, firmly, closing my laptop with a snap and making to get up. I'd come back when he'd finished his job.

"I'm sure you do," he leered, moving towards me with slow, deliberate strides.

I looked around, instinctively backing away from his approach as something in me registered that he didn't have any cleaning supplies with him.

"Rene..." I warned, wary, feeling unease crawl over my body like a thousand tiny insects.

"You think you're so superior, don't you?" he mused, his eyes raking over me. "Ruining lives without a thought…"

I felt my stomach clench anxiously. Barry had obviously spoken to him but I could tell from his thoughts that all the blame, bitter and vitriolic, was aimed at me.

"…But really you're just a whore like all the rest."

"That's enough Rene," I said firmly, sounding far more assertive than I felt, glancing towards the door.

Shit. I would have to go around him to get out.

"I won't have you talking to me in that way... I want you to clear out your locker immediately. You no longer work here."

Rene's eyes met mine and they were filled with pure loathing. He stepped slowly towards me, and inside his head it was as if something snapped: a door had opened and darkness was unleashed.

Even with my shields down, knowing a split second before that it was coming, I wasn't fast enough to avoid his fist. His first punch grazed my temple, knocking me towards the bed. I cried out as a second caught me hard in the stomach, making me retch from the pain, and I tried desperately to brace myself against the bed frame. Terrified, I whirled around, lashing out defensively with my arms, knowing from his mind that he was going to try to strangle me next.

He hissed with pain as my nails clawed at his cheek, and grabbed my arms, roughly, pushing me down onto the bed. Frantically, I kicked out against him, catching him hard in the shin as I tried to twist away, grappling for the nurse's alarm. He cursed, pulling his hand back and slapping me violently across the face. The brutal force of the blow took my breath away, my vision blurring, the shock immediately replaced with a fiery pain.

It was all the hesitation Rene needed. He grabbed me forcibly, pushing me onto my front, over the end of the bed. I gasped as my stomach was rammed into the metal frame, Rene's weight pinning me underneath him as his large hand forced my head down towards the mattress. His head was screaming, full of rage. He wanted to punish me, to demonstrate his power over me. I struggled futilely against him as his other hand began to wrench up my skirt. I could hear myself whimper, a tear escaping down my cheek, as he exposed the lower half of my body, grasping forcefully at the fabric of my panties.

"Please…" I begged, sobbing now, rigid with fear, but his thoughts were black, violent, and I knew he could hardly hear me through the haze. I felt bile rise and catch in my throat as he fumbled behind me, releasing his fly.

I sensed the tenor of Rene's mind change an instant before I heard a roar, deep and animalistic, tear through the room. Seconds later I was slumped to the floor, suddenly free from the weight of Rene's body. I looked around me, shocked, desperate, filled with panic. I could see Rene's legs, kicking out over the bed, as if someone had lifted him over me, clean off the floor.

Shakily, I grabbed the bed frame and pulled myself to my feet, my heart missing a beat as I came face to face with Eric Northman.

Northman's eyes caught mine, just for a second, before he bared his teeth like a wild animal and sunk them into Rene's throat. My hands flew to my mouth, stifling my scream, and I watched incredulously, paralysed with fear, as Rene's struggle intensified and then stilled before me. Finally, Eric looked up at me, his eyes ferocious, as he pushed Rene's body away from him, dull-eyed and lifeless, onto the floor.

My legs were trembling underneath me; I took two wobbly steps back, sinking against the wall. I couldn't take my eyes off the blood as it ran down Northman's chin in tiny rivulets.

"Oh my God, you just drank his... blood," I whispered hoarsely, finally able to form the words.

Eric wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yes," he said, leaning back against the headboard and stretching his long legs out on the mattress in front of him.

My mind was reeling as I processed all the possibilities. I knew there was only one explanation but my brain was rejecting it. It just wasn't possible... But then wouldn't many say that about telepathy? Both Barry and I were proof that there was more to the world than most people thought. And what about Amelia? She called herself a witch, although I'd never really given that any credence. So could there be other things too?

"You're a vampire," I gasped, immediately feeling foolish for saying it aloud.

"Yes," he repeated, frowning as if he'd only just realised himself.

Part of me, the tiniest section of my mind that wasn't absolutely terrified, registered that Eric had made no move to attack me. Still, I held out my hands in front of me, defensively, as I sidled towards Rene's body, crouching down slowly to check for a pulse.

"He's dead," I muttered to myself. I looked up at Eric, who was watching me intently. "You killed him."

"He was trying to hurt you," he replied, softly, matter-of-factly.

I nodded, wiping away the tears that were clouding my vision as the adrenaline began to subside. Eric was right. If he hadn't intervened, I didn't want to think about what would have happened.

"Thank you," I rasped, my throat thick with emotion. "I think you... you may have saved my life."

Eric nodded in acceptance and moved off the bed, until he was crouching down beside the body. His legs and feet were bare and the flimsy hospital gown parted at the back, allowing a glimpse of a pair of skimpy scarlet briefs. If it were any other situation I might have found the sight vaguely comical but this definitely wasn't the time.

I followed his lead and surveyed Rene's body with a critical eye. Two tiny drops of crimson marred the otherwise spotless collar of his olive green shirt, but I wasn't sure that you'd even notice them if you weren't looking. I felt my stomach churn as my eyes skimmed over his pants, partially open at the waist. Other than that, and the angry wound at his neck of course, Rene just looked asleep.

Except he wasn't, and that was the problem.

I slumped back onto the cold tiled floor. "How the hell are we going to explain this?" I asked him, starting to feel a little hysterical. I looked at the body again and then at my patient. I wasn't even going to try and start to process the whole vampire thing. One darn crisis at a time.

"I mean, what the hell are we supposed to say?" I could hear that my voice was shrill, bordering on frenzied, but I couldn't stop myself. "Sorry sheriff. I know Mr. Northman likes to drink people's blood, and yeah he's technically dead, but it really was self-defence… Christ—"

"You will calm down," he interrupted coolly, his azure blue eyes holding my gaze, intense, unflinching.

I threw my hands up in the air. "Just telling me to calm down isn't going to actually make it happen. I mean, we've got a dead janitor here—"

I noticed his jaw tense before he repeated himself, more firmly this time, his eyes boring into mine. "Woman, you _will_ calm down."

I let out a huff of exasperation, rubbing my temples. I could feel a headache coming on, on top of everything else. Great. "I said _don't_ tell me to calm down!"

Eric shook his head, cursing under his breath, clearly not used to anyone challenging him.

"Fine. Are you done?" he sighed resignedly. "Because we need to attend to this and to do so you are going to need to keep a level head."

My eyes met his and I nodded slowly, embarrassed. He was right; panicking wasn't going to fix this. I was alive and relatively unharmed. That was because of Eric Northman. I had seen what Rene wanted to do to me. Even if all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sob myself to sleep, I owed it to Eric now to hold myself together for just a little longer.

"Okay," he announced authoritatively, seemingly satisfied, and looked around the room. "This is a hospital, yes? Is there a scalpel here, or a pair of scissors, or something like that? Something I could have grabbed to defend you with?"

I let out a defeated sigh. "Mr. Northman, you're checked into a high security mental health hospital. We don't tend to leave sharp objects around for the patients to play with, you know?"

"I see." His lips twitched into an amused smile.

Eric studied me for a moment, his gaze intense, unflinching, and I could feel myself blushing scarlet under his consideration. He leaned towards me, slowly, and I held my breath as his hand gently grazed my cheek, the sensation of his cool caress instantly alleviating the pain. His eyes left mine for just a moment, a frown darkening his features as he inspected the swelling along my jaw, before he ghosted his fingertips down the curve of my neck and across my collarbone. I couldn't take my eyes off his, as his fingers skimmed ever lower.

And then it was over.

Eric moved away from me in a blur of pale blue polyester, sitting back on his haunches. I looked at him in confusion as the pain returned to my cheek, my skin instantly yearning for the coolness of his touch. He smirked, waving my ballpoint at me, and I glanced down at my breast pocket in puzzlement.

For a moment I wanted to hit him. That's what he had been after? _My pen?_

"This will do," he announced, before drawing his arm back and stabbing the pen with force into Rene's neck. I barely had time to gasp, before he had withdrawn the pen and gouged it into Rene's body a second time.

I watched him in horrified disbelief until I realised that there were no longer any bite marks visible on Rene's neck; just a small stab wound with my pen sticking out from it.

As if sensing my reaction, Eric raised an eyebrow to me in challenge.

"Okay," I conceded. "That gets rid of the bite marks. But shouldn't there be blood everywhere? And there's bound to be a post-mortem so they'll notice the exsanguination…"

He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling with humour. "This is a high security mental hospital, isn't it? Presumably, you can get your hands on some blood?"

I frowned for a second, thinking about it, and then nodded. "In the infirmary."

Eric stood up, extending his hand to me. I looked up at him from my position on the floor; he really was breathtaking to look at. I wondered briefly if I would have been quite so keen to help cover up a violent supernatural death, if he'd been ugly, but it was a momentary thought, soon forgotten. I was in this now, after all, and there was no turning back.

I reached out to take his hand, feeling a little thrill from his skin glancing against mine as he pulled me gently to my feet. His hand continued to hold mine, his thumb sweeping lightly over my knuckles.

"If there is a way to warm the blood to body temperature, that would be good… Also, this man is O+." He pursed his lips, as if surprised that he knew that piece of information.

I gave him a tentative smile. In all the drama, it had been easy to forget why Eric was here in the first place. "You still can't remember anything?" I asked, softly.

He glanced away and then shook his head stoically.

It seemed Eric had retained his procedural memory, he had known he was a vampire and it appeared he could even tell someone's blood type just by tasting it, but his declarative memory was still impaired. It was a fascinating case, even without taking into account the fact that he was technically dead.

"I did a number of tests to monitor your brain while you were, er... asleep. There's no sign of any swelling or injury. When you were found, you were only partially dressed, so we thought you might have been attacked. That maybe this was some kind of extreme trauma-based dissociative amnesia?" I frowned, thinking out loud. "But now I know what you are, an attack where you end up worse off doesn't seem that likely…"

Eric chuckled. "No it doesn't."

"We'll get to the bottom of it," I assured him.

He nodded. "But first we need blood."

0-0-0-0-0

Eric was sitting on the end of the bed, waiting. He'd put his jeans on while I'd been out of the room and looked up at me expectantly as I slipped furtively back through the security door. I took out two pouches of blood from my pockets, having warmed them in the microwave in the staff kitchen.

"O+," I confirmed with a smile, handing them to him.

Eric's fangs came down with a click, startling me slightly, and I giggled nervously at myself for being so jumpy. He gave me a little smirk before tearing into the first packet, pouring the contents over Rene's neck and shoulder.

I gave Eric an impressed look. "That actually looks pretty real."

He chuckled, biting into the second one, ready to pour it on himself as evidence of a struggle.

Suddenly I had a thought and reached over to him, my hand on his arm, stilling him. "Mr. Northman? Eric? I think we should say I stabbed him…"

His eyes flickered to my hand, which I instantly withdrew, and then met mine inquisitively.

"It's my pen. I'm the one with the bruises. And, let's face it, at this point in time, I'm the doctor and you're the 'mental patient'…"

Eric frowned and then nodded reluctantly. "It sounds sensible..."

I shrugged. "It's valid self-defence. And frankly the less attention we draw in your direction, the better. Plus my friend Barry is a doctor here too. He can corroborate my story that Rene was bad news and had just been fired. All you have to do is say that you woke up in all the commotion and saw Rene attacking me?"

"I can do that," Eric agreed.

He proffered the blood pouch at me, as if seeking my permission. I looked down with regret at my cream silk blouse; it was mostly hidden by my lab coat but it wouldn't be enough to spare it.

"Wait a second," I muttered, reaching behind my neck and undoing my locket. It was fairly ornate and I didn't want to get it covered in blood if I could help it. I tucked it into my skirt pocket and sighed. "Okay… now."

I closed my eyes as Eric began to douse me with blood, covering my chest and spattering my face and hair. When I opened my eyes, I caught his gaze; he was looking at me with an intensity that rivalled hunger and I had to look away.

"I suppose this is like porn for you," I joked nervously, glancing back at him, trying to diffuse the heat in the room.

He laughed, a carefree laugh that make him look almost boyish.

"What is your name, woman?" His bright blue eyes held my gaze, questioning, full of curiosity.

"I'm Sookie, Sookie Stackhouse... Doctor," I added, almost as an afterthought.

He smiled. "Well, it appears that I'm Eric, Eric Northman. Vampire."

I snorted. "Pleased to meet you."

"Well, Sookie Stackhouse," he urged, raising his eyebrow. "It's time."

I nodded, and with one last deep breath, I walked out into the corridor and let out a scream.

0-0-0-0-0

Following statements from Barry and Eric, Bud Dearborn had been happy to write Rene's death off as self-defence. The Sheriff's Department were liaising with police in Shreveport over the address on Eric's licence but, so far, they had nothing interesting to report. I had persuaded Eric to stay at the Facility until we could find out a way to reinstate his memory and I worked with him for hours each night on various memory retrieval exercises, trying to use my telepathy to try to access his mind.

So far we'd managed to establish that he spoke dozens of foreign languages (including one or two that, I suspected, were no longer in use), could play the piano but not the guitar, and was trained in a number of martial arts. Other than that, however, we had made very few real advances.

Even so, I really enjoyed spending time with him: I'd discovered that he had a sharp mind and a great sense of humour. Hungry for information, he was always asking questions and I noticed that I was telling him more about my life (such as it was) than I really should, given our, admittedly unorthodox, doctor-patient relationship. By the third day I was putting my shields up around Barry almost constantly as I found myself counting the hours until sundown, getting a little more excited each day at the prospect of seeing my new patient.

I knew what was going on, of course. He had rescued me from something traumatic and our shared experience of dealing with Rene's body had created a fragile, yet immediate, intimacy. It didn't help that Eric was hot, cornea-blisteringly so, and had made his attraction to me clear on numerous occasions since his arrival. The fact that I was effectively all Eric currently had in the world only added an extra intensity to the situation.

And I couldn't hear his thoughts: there was that too.

It wasn't the first time I'd felt attraction for a patient, or he for me. Under normal circumstances, I would have had no hesitation passing the case to another doctor, but I knew I couldn't. Eric needed me and trusted me and, despite all my professional self-awareness, I found that I liked it.

"I thought we might try something different today," I suggested, easing back into my seat in the therapy room.

Eric sat opposite me in a large battered leather wing chair, lounging in it casually with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"Different?" he asked, curious, leaning forward. I felt his gaze flicker, just for a moment, over my legs crossed at the ankle in nude high heels. It was distracting.

I nodded, trying to focus. "Well, um, I've been trying to access your mind for six nights now and all I seem to be able to detect is an empty space. What I don't know is if that's because of the amnesia or because you're, um…"

"Life challenged," Eric supplied helpfully, his lips curling into a smile.

My grin mirrored his as I caught his eye. He was always so playful in these sessions, even though I knew he was incredibly frustrated by his amnesia. I suspected he was not used to having such a lack of control over his personal circumstances but he just seemed to deal with it.

"Exactly. So I've asked my friend Amelia to come and give her opinion."

Eric frowned. "Another doctor?"

I shook my head, uncrossing my legs and sitting up a little straighter. "She's not exactly a doctor... Um, more like a practitioner of alternative therapies."

Eric's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So she's a witch."

I grimaced, immediately reconsidering the merits of this idea. "Some might call her that, yes."

Eric sighed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his hands behind his head. I couldn't help but rake my eyes over his body, tight and sculpted, under one of the track pant and t-shirt combos that Dawn had picked out for him. I paused a second too long on his groin, wondering to myself how it all worked with vampires if they had no pulse.

"Oh I can assure you everything performs as well as it would if I were human. Better in fact. And I am very much in proportion." There was amusement in Eric's voice but also something else, something darker that made my insides tighten deliciously.

My mouth opened, wanting to fire back a witty retort, but my mind was blank. I closed it again in a perfect imitation of a goldfish.

He gestured to my pen with a long finger. "Feel free to write that in your notes, Doctor."

"I thought I was supposed to be the telepath," I grumbled, looking down at the pad in my lap, my cheeks red-hot with embarrassment.

He chuckled. "I didn't need to read your mind to know what you were thinking. If it makes you feel better, I have imagined your naked body many times as well."

My blush intensified, coating my skin from head to mortified toe. "Eric!" I admonished, unable to stifle a laugh.

He shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. "It's true."

I sighed, knowing we had veered way too far away from the flimsy veil of professionalism I'd managed to maintain over the past few nights.

"Eric," I said softly. "That may be, but—"

We were interrupted by a knock on the door and I called to the person outside to come in.

"We'll finish our discussion later," Eric whispered, winking at me conspiratorially.

I shook my head. "There's no more discussion to be had," I hissed. Veered away from professionalism? Who was I kidding? Professionalism was currently on vacation. In another continent. Somewhere far away and hard to get to, like Antarctica.

I looked up at Amelia who was standing in the doorway in a long printed skirt that reminded me of my Grandmother's kitchen curtains. She gave me a warm grin in greeting before eyeing Eric like he was a tall glass of water and she was dying of thirst.

Clearing my throat, I made introductions. "Amelia, this is Eric Northman, the amnesia case I was telling you about. Eric, this is Amelia, our, um, witch."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Eric," Amelia cooed, holding out her hand.

Eric smiled flirtatiously, taking Amelia's hand and bringing it to his lips. "Delighted."

"Ooh you've got cold lips," Amelia giggled, her thoughts immediately considering the benefits of a cool mouth in hot places.

"When you're quite finished Amelia," I muttered, impatiently. "...There's the matter of Eric's condition."

Amelia turned to me, grinning. "_Jealous much_?" she projected at me.

I rolled my eyes at her, ignoring her. "As you know I've tried the usual methods with no success. I thought you might have some ideas."

Amelia nodded, her serious expression signalling that she was finally getting down to business. She looked back towards Eric. "Well it doesn't take much to work out what's wrong with you."

He raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't?"

I held my breath, wondering suddenly if Amelia could tell what he was. Maybe this had been a terrible idea after all?

She shook her head. "Your aura has a sheen to it. It's like you're draped in a fine crystal net." She gave a flourish of the hand that signalled that the conclusion was obvious. Eric and I glanced at each other, bewildered, and then looked back to her.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "That means it's a spell."

"A witch did this to me?" Eric growled, his eyes darkening with anger.

"Probably," Amelia nodded, instinctively taking a step towards me. "And a pretty powerful one at that."

"Can you undo it?" I asked hopefully.

She shrugged. "I can have a go."

I looked over at Eric, questioningly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and I knew he was trying to calm himself down. I was just grateful his fangs hadn't released as they'd done a time or two during our sessions. He looked up at me, finally, a resigned look on his face. "Well, at this point I don't think we have anything to lose. Do you?"

I frowned, not sure if that were entirely true. "I guess not."

He nodded at Amelia. "Okay. Let's try it."

0-0-0-0-0

Eric had spent the last forty minutes sat totally still and cross-legged in the middle of Amelia's salt circle as she sat opposite him, eyes closed, chanting something unintelligible under her breath. By Eric's right knee there was a large ceramic bowl filled with water, sage and something green called gotu kola. I looked on, equal parts horrified and fascinated, as the water began to simmer, by itself, seemingly from the energy in the room.

Eric's eyes were closed too, his face impassive, but his body had gone rigid, as if he were tensing with concentration. I felt my heart stutter as Amelia let out a small shriek, just at the same time as the water stilled and Eric's eyes opened with a start.

"Fuck," Amelia muttered, using the back of her hand to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. "Fuck. I thought I had it then."

I recovered my breath and ran over to her, helping her up from the floor, my eyes scanning Eric as I did so. He seemed to have gone even paler, if that were possible. "What happened?"

Amelia exhaled deeply in frustration. "It was like I had the net between my fingers. I was lifting it, but it was so much heavier than it looked… I managed to pull it up, just slightly, for a few seconds, but then it was too much."

"Too much?"

"It was like it slipped from my fingers and fell back into place."

I looked over at Eric. He was frowning, his eyes betraying a myriad of emotions. "Anything?"

He nodded slowly. "I could feel it as Amelia described. Just for second, something was able to steal through…"

I gasped. "You remember something?"

Amelia whooped as a slow smile began to light up Eric's face. "Yes. Fragments only but early memories. When I was still…" He stopped himself, glancing at Amelia.

I nodded, understanding, and turned to my friend. "Amelia, thanks so much for all your help today. You were amazing."

She grinned. "I was, wasn't I?"

I laughed. "Yes… Maybe we could try again tomorrow, see if there's more you can do. I know you must be tired…"

Amelia gave me a wry look, only too aware she was being dismissed. "Sure, sure. I need to get some more memory herbs anyway."

Eric got up, extending his hand to her. "Thank you," he said graciously.

She nodded amiably, shaking it firmly. "Fine. See you both tomorrow… But you can vacuum up the salt circle."

0-0-0-0-0

Eric sat there, gripping a mug of warmed blood that I had taken to stealing from the infirmary each night, deep in thought.

"You remembered your life, didn't you? Before you were a vampire?" I asked gently.

His eyes blazed fiercely before he glanced downwards, leaning forward to place his cup on the floor. "Pieces, yes," he answered quietly. "Can you read my thoughts now?"

I gave him a half-smile and shook my head. "No. It must be a life-challenged thing after all."

He nodded. "I'm glad."

I turned it back to him. "So I guess you were human once?"

He nodded pensively and I waited, not wanting to push, the sound of my breathing and the soft hum of the electric light stretching out and filling the silence.

"It was many, many hundreds of years ago," he finally offered, sitting back. "Not here. Cold. By the sea. I remember fishing, long wooden boats, huge green forests as far as you can see…" He closed his eyes for a moment, as if suddenly recalling more. "The flash of sword against armour… It was a hard life by today's standards but I was happy. I remember I was happy."

I felt my heart constrict as pain creased his features, just for a second, and then it was gone. "I have memories of my children," he whispered, looking away. "Two boys survived. They were still only young but strong. And a baby girl. I was proud of them…"

I could feel a lump catching, stinging at the back of my throat, as a small tear escaped down my cheek. "How old were you when…?"

My question hung in the air. Finally he shook his head. "I'm not sure. Not old, but already a leader of men."

I waited silently, watching him as darkness clouded his expression and I knew he had remembered being made into a vampire.

"I was drunk," he murmured bleakly, almost to himself. "There was a body, by the road. I remember turning him over to see if he was alive."

Eric ran his hand through his hair, blowing air through his teeth in a frustrated hiss.

"What is it?" I whispered, encouraging him.

"I can't remember his face." He shook his head. "I can't see him in any detail."

"Him?" I asked with a shiver.

"I remember the pain. He was too strong. A different kind of strength… I was terrified. I'd never really been scared before, not even on the battlefield. But I was scared then, to my core."

I listened, fascinated and appalled, wondering what kind of monster could cause terror in the likes of Eric Northman.

Eric sighed irritably. "I can't see his face. It won't come to me. That's as far as I can remember."

I didn't really stop to consider the consequences, but found myself rising from my seat all the same, slowly making my way towards him. Eric looked at me warily, just for a second, and then gathered me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap. He didn't rock me, or soothe me, he just held me close to his chest, in silence, his strong arms wrapped around me.

He looked down at me after a moment, his hand caressing my cheek and I felt the pad of his thumb smudge away my tears. The coolness of his fingers brushed delicately along my jaw and then his hand moved lower. I held my breath as he reached for my locket which had escaped from beneath my blouse. He held the pale green casing delicately between thumb and finger, tilting it so that the gold trim reflected the light.

"My Grandmother left it to me," I explained, smiling as I remembered her.

Eric nodded, examining it carefully. "It looks fairly old."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I suppose I should get it valued one day but it's never really been about that. I can remember Gran wearing it when Jason and I were kids. She used to say it was magic, that it could grant wishes. When we would ask her to use it, she just said that she had lived a happy life and all her wishes had come true… It's silly but it makes me feel better... I miss her so much but when I wear this, it's like I feel warm inside and a part of her is here with me."

I felt my eyes well up again, this time with guilt. "Look at me talking about myself when you've lost so much."

Eric shrugged. "Don't feel sorry for me, Sookie. If I hadn't been made vampire, I would have been dead for many centuries already. And I have some of my memories back thanks to you, and Amelia, and tomorrow we will try again."

I sat back in his lap, snorting at myself in derision, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "You're right. I don't know what's going on. I'm usually so professional but I just can't seem to keep my emotions out of it where you're involved."

He grazed his lips over my forehead before pulling me back into his chest, holding me still as I relaxed into his embrace. "Believe me, I know what you mean."

0-0-0-0-0

The next night Amelia managed to keep the spell going for just under an hour, managing to lift the net for a short time, allowing further memories to escape. I could tell from Eric's expression that most of those recollections were not happy ones.

Sensing Eric's mood, Amelia made to go straight after the spell's completion. "I really felt like I was close. Damn," she muttered to herself, as she packed up her stuff.

I smiled ruefully, glancing worriedly at Eric. "You did well, Amelia. Thank you."

She sighed. "Not well enough though… Listen, next time I'd like to bring Octavia with me." She looked over at Eric, who was slumped in his usual chair, barely listening. "She's a very powerful witch, my mentor. I could use her as a booster to add power to the spell. What do you think?"

Eric nodded distractedly and I put an arm around Amelia's shoulder, leading her to the door. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

She glanced back at Eric. "Sorry I couldn't have done more tonight."

I didn't hesitate this time, making my way straight to Eric's lap as soon as Amelia closed the door. He held me tightly against him, rubbing his nose against my hair and neck, as if taking comfort from my scent.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, tentatively.

Eric sighed. "I've been so frustrated this last week at not being able to remember anything, that I never stopped to think whether I would actually want to remember. I've been happy here, our talks, spending time with you. Don't get me wrong, I think there are things that we could have been doing to make my stay more pleasurable…" He raised a salacious eyebrow at me and I felt myself flush. It wasn't as if I hadn't been thinking it, but still.

"You've got some bad memories back?" I asked, trying to get him back on track. I knew he'd been trying to change the subject, to distract me.

"Yes," he admitted. "Maybe the first couple of hundred years with the one who made me. None of it particularly pleasant."

Eric took my hand, rubbing circles inside my wrist with his thumb. I sat there holding my breath, feel all my nerve-endings respond, my skin ablaze.

"He had a few of us," Eric murmured, his voice taking on a faraway quality as his thumb continued to dance across my skin. "All men, all young. He used us as a personal army and…" His hand stilled. "And for other things. None of them survived as long as I did, but I was strong."

"You were a warrior," I whispered shakily.

Eric frowned. "And mentally strong too. Many of the others couldn't survive his _attentions_. If your maker commands you, there is no choice, so some took the only choice they could... a stake, to meet the sun."

My stomach was churning as I processed his words and I could feel tears well, emotion stinging the back of my throat. My thoughts flickered to Rene. I remembered the feeling of sheer terror and helplessness as he tried to force himself on me. The thought of being subject to that day in, day out, for centuries was inconceivable to me.

"Come with me," I whispered, standing up and offering my hand to him tentatively in invitation.

Eric tilted his head in question and I glanced cautiously towards the security cameras, high up in the corner of the ceiling. Eric followed my gaze and then looked back at me. I could feel my pulse quicken as he took my hand, the briefest hint of a smile at his lips, his eyes flooding with understanding.

I distracted Andy, the night security officer, as Eric sped past him, invisible, out into the darkness of the courtyard. Moments later, the cool night air hit me, together with the realisation of what I was about to do.

"Where are we going?" Eric asked, following me to the first of two blue doors across the square.

"I live here. The other apartment is used by some of the other staff on an ad hoc basis..." I looked away, embarrassed. "I, er, thought we might want some, some privacy but… it was a silly..."

I shook my head, frustrated with myself. What was I thinking? He was a patient and I hardly knew him. He didn't even know himself.

"Don't..." he whispered.

I glanced away, biting my lip. "Don't what?"

He shook his head. "Don't doubt what is between us."

He combed his fingers through my hair and I shivered.

"I'm scared," I whispered, still unable to meet his gaze, but feeling the heat of it on my skin.

His fingers danced across my cheekbone, cupping my face and tilting my chin upwards. He shook his head, his eyes smouldering into mine. "I won't hurt you."

I nodded, shyly, in confirmation. I believed him.

I fumbled for my keys as Eric began dusting kisses along the back of my neck; wet, open-mouthed kisses that made me shiver with want. I finally got the door unlocked, looking over my shoulder with a smirk. "You make this much harder than it needs to be."

"You need to invite me in," he whispered, grazing my earlobe with his teeth.

I shuddered, part of me acknowledging that that little piece of vampire mythology was actually fact, most of me not giving a damn either way. "Come on in, Eric."

He smiled, pushing the door open and scooping me up so that my legs were wrapped around him. His kiss was light at first, sensual, setting a thousand tiny impulses tingling all over my body. I melted into him, allowing him to take the lead.

"Bedroom?" he murmured, tugging open my blouse, running his thumb over my breast as his lips found my neck.

My head fell back as I arched into his touch. "Second door on the left."

Eric carried me into the bedroom with a few short strides, lowering me gently onto the mattress. He watched me heatedly as I undid the last two remaining buttons on my blouse, pulling it from inside my skirt and opening it wide before reaching behind my neck, undoing my locket and tossing it on the nightstand. His eyes lingered on my candy pink bra as he kicked off his shoes and socks before pulling his t-shirt off in one swift movement and sinking to his knees before me. I closed my eyes, enraptured, as he ghosted kisses across my abdomen, deftly unzipping the side of my skirt. Pushing up off the mattress with my palms, I allowed him to remove it completely.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he whispered as I leaned back on the comforter. His hands swept over the tops of my breasts and across my stomach, dancing delicately, for the briefest of moments, over the apex of my thighs. I shivered in response and Eric smiled before leaning in to kiss me again. I ran my hands through his hair and over the smooth plains of his broad shoulders as he roughly pulled down one of the cups of my bra, teasing my hardened nipple with his lips and teeth. I felt moisture pool between my thighs as he rubbed my other breast through my bra, the differing sensations causing me to claw him to me, wanting more.

His mouth continued its assault on my breasts as his fingers trailed down to my soaked panties. He ran a hand between my legs over the fabric, groaning at how wet I was for him before easing them down my legs. I ground against him as the pad of his thumb found my engorged clit and he starting pressing against it in little circles, pumping me with his fingers.

I wanted more.

When I couldn't wait any longer, I reached down between us, pulling at Eric's track pants and he shifted, shoving them down, freeing himself and positioning above me.

"Eric, I... I haven't done this in a long time," I whispered, slightly overwhelmed as I surveyed the sheer size of him.

He nodded, his gaze full of something primal, protective. "You can trust me."

I smiled, brushing his hair gently from his forehead. "I do."

I reached between us, stroking his length as I positioned him at my entrance.

"Fuck," he growled as I met his gaze, dark with heat.

Twisting the fabric of my blouse to restrain my wrists, he pulled my arms up above my head, before starting to edge inside me. I had never felt so deliciously filled, so utterly complete, as he began to move inside of me, agonisingly slowly, pulling almost all the way out before slamming into me with a force that made me groan. I felt myself build towards release as my heels dug into his luscious behind, forcing him deeper. When he began to increase the speed of his thrusts, adjusting his angle slightly, I was lost. My release crashed over me, primitive and violent, causing me to scream his name as he pounded into me, owning me, once, twice more, before following me over the edge.

He collapsed on top of me and I revelled in the feeling of his delicious weight on me. After a moment he lifted himself up and kissed me lightly, withdrawing and moving to my side, undoing the cuffs of my blouse before pulling it off my wrists. I draped my leg across him as he pulled me into his chest. His skin was deliciously cool against the sated flush of my body.

Skirting my fingers across his chest, I drew circles around his nipple, which began to tighten at my touch. "You didn't bite me," I whispered hesitantly. "I wasn't sure if you would do that when we..."

He glanced down at me and I resisted the urge to shy away from his gaze.

"I did want to," he sighed, brushing his lips along my hairline. "I still do, very much so. You smell so… But I didn't want it to be in the heat of the moment. I wanted you to choose if that was going to happen."

Knowing how he had once been denied any choice by his maker, his words meant so much. But in truth, I was incredibly nervous at the thought of it. I'd seen him sink his fangs into Rene and it didn't look pleasant.

"It wouldn't hurt you," Eric murmured, reading my mind. I could feel him smiling into my hair. "I would make sure that it felt good."

I nodded shyly into his chest. "I guess I can believe that."

"Let's not worry about this now," he whispered. "Tell me something about you that I don't already know. How did you end up as a doctor here?"

I felt my heart swell. Talking to Eric was pretty much the favourite part of my day, although my most recent experience with him was now a definite contender.

"Barry and I were both discovered when we were children," I explained, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his chest. "When you can read people's minds, you tend to stand out. Everyone in my town thought I was a freak…"

I smiled; I could laugh about it now but it had been awful as a child.

"But then I was sent to this school where there were more like me and they trained us, taught us to develop our skills. Barry was a few years younger than me but we'd both lost our parents young, so we had a bond from the start. When I decided I wanted to be a doctor, it didn't take him long to decide that's what he wanted too…"

Eric stiffened. "He's in love with you."

I grinned, the possessiveness of his tone making my stomach flip. "No, I can read his mind and it's not that. Telepathy can be lonely. We're there for each other, you know?"

He nodded, kissing the tip of my nose. "Yes. I do."

0-0-0-0-0

Eric was already waiting for us in the therapy room two nights later, sitting in his usual chair.

"Octavia, this is Eric," I said, unable to hide my grin as his eye caught mine.

The older witch's smile faltered, just for a heartbeat, before she recovered herself. I didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking. I glanced warily at Eric and he nodded, almost imperceptibly: she knew what he was.

"Thank you for giving up your time," he said politely, standing up but not bothering to offer his hand.

Octavia nodded stiffly, her gaze flickered cautiously from me to Eric. "I'm happy to help."

The salt circle was bigger this time. Octavia sat behind Amelia, one hand on her shoulder, both witches facing Eric. Amelia's chanting began, the strain in her voice evident as she pressed on. I felt the energy of the spell ripple over my skin as the lights in the therapy room began to flicker ominously. Moments later Amelia let out a piercing scream, as she convulsed and then slumped back against Octavia, the bowl beside them shattering and spilling its contents on the carpet.

Alarmed, I rushed over to her. "God Amelia, are you alright?"

She nodded, slightly dazed but unharmed, and we both glanced over at Eric. He was still sitting stiffly on his side of the circle, his expression one that I couldn't immediately place.

I looked anxiously between my friend and my vampire. "Did it work? …Eric?"

He shook his head rigidly, making to stand up.

"It didn't?" Amelia sounded confused. "Seriously? Shit. I could have sworn it worked that time."

I looked over at Octavia for confirmation.

"Eric's right," she agreed, reaching over to pick up the pieces of broken ceramic from the carpet. "I didn't feel it take."

"Maybe we could try again tomorrow?" I suggested gently, after the witches had left.

Eric nodded distractedly and I wondered if maybe the spell had worked in part. Perhaps more unpleasant memories had made it through? Things he didn't want to remember or relive.

"We don't have to think about this now," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his waist. He stiffened, just for a second, before hugging me into his chest.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered into my hair after a moment.

I smiled. "You want to go back to the apartment?"

"I certainly do. But first I thought we could go _out_ out. Presumably you can sign me out?"

I frowned, stepping back and looking up at him. "_Out_ of the Facility?"

He nodded, his mouth tweaking up into a devilish grin. "Doctor Stackhouse, I'd like to take you on a date."

0-0-0-0-0

We walked hand in hand up Main Street which consisted of little more than a general store and an ice cream parlour tagged onto the side of a little diner. Still, it felt amazing to be away from the hospital.

Eric looked down at me, smirking. "What are you thinking about?"

I sighed. "I was trying to remember the last time I felt this happy."

"And?"

I paused, feeling my skin flush. "I… I'm not sure I ever have."

He stole a glance at me before nodding. "I know. It's the same for me."

I laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "You can't even remember."

He stopped walking, pulling on my hand to still me. "No," he murmured, a shy smile playing at his lips. "I mean that I feel the same."

I couldn't control the goofy grin that broke out across my face, mirroring his. Every cell in my body screamed out for this man. I had never felt this consumed with feeling. Nothing even close.

And he felt the same.

Eric's smiled suddenly faded. He jerked away from me, dropping my hand.

"Eric… what is it?"

I followed his stare across the street, realising with alarm that we were being watched. It was a man; not much taller than me but attractive, well-dressed, probably in his early forties. I'd never seen him before but one glimpse at Eric's horrified expression told me that he recognised him only too well.

"Who is it, Eric?" I opened my mind, starting to panic as I detected the same empty void that I felt with Eric.

Eric ignored me, not taking his eyes off the man as he started to make his way towards us. Instead the stranger addressed my question as he approached and there was a cruelty to his answering smile that made me reflexively step back.

"I am Appius Livius Ocella, Eric's maker. And you, my dear, are Sookie Brigant."

0-0-0-0-0

"Brigant?" I asked, glancing at Eric, confused. "That's not my name."

Eric's maker raised his eyebrow, amused. "Oh but it is. Or should I say your grandfather's name."

"My grandfather's name was Earl Stackhouse," I asserted, trying to hide my distress.

Ocella took a step towards me. "Actually your paternal grandfather was Fintan Brigant. Your great-grandfather was Niall Brigant and you are the last of his line."

I shook my head. "That's not true." I looked over anxiously to my vampire. "Eric, let's get out of here."

I felt Ocella's laugh crawl over me, dirty and callous, and I shuddered. "How sweet, Eric. She hasn't worked it out yet."

I looked frantically between them. "Worked what out, Eric?" I demanded. I took a step towards him. "Eric?"

Eric finally made eye contact and somehow I just knew. His expression was full of anguish and I could feel the hot sting of tears burn my eyes.

"It was all a lie," I whispered, mostly to myself.

"Your great-grandfather and I had a little history," Ocella explained with a smile. "He once killed someone very close to me. My child… When I killed him, I made it clear that I wouldn't rest until the entire Brigant line was extinguished. I make it a point to keep my promises."

I gasped. "My parents?"

He tipped his head to the side, entertained by my reaction. "Your aunt Linda, Hadley, your grandfather Fintan… I found dear Jason a few months ago. He was the one who told me how to find you." He scrunched up his nose. "Not very loyal, that one."

I ran a distracted hand through my hair as I put it all together. "So you sent Eric to me."

Ocella shrugged. "You were a little harder to access than the others but we worked around it. Eric's never been a fan of witches but still, he was delighted to help, knowing he'd get his memory back eventually."

I spun around to face Eric, my features twisted with disgust.

"How could you?" I whispered, bitter tears careening down my cheeks. "Did you ever feel anything?"

Eric looked ashen. "Sookie, I…"

"Actually don't," I begged, raising my hand, feeling as if my legs were going to give out from underneath me. "I don't want to know."

"If he orders me to do something…" Eric pleaded.

I glared at him. "You have to do it?" I spat. "I remember."

Ocella approached Eric, taking his hand in his and running his tongue over his wrist. I looked away in revulsion.

"Speaking of orders, Eric," he leered. "Kill her."

0-0-0-0-0

I felt the cold shadow of dread chill my blood as I turned to run. I wasn't fast enough.

Nowhere near.

My scream died in my throat as Eric's fangs tore into my neck, drawing deep, instantly weakening me.

"Eric… Stop. Please no." I pushed weakly at his chest, feeling my strength slowly ebbing away as he consumed me greedily, taking it all. I tried to focus but my vision was blurring. I felt my legs give way beneath me.

"Eric… You said you felt the same…"

My body felt cold, numb, as I felt consciousness slip slowly from my grasp.

"Please Eric." My voice was far-away, almost incoherent.

And then he stopped. I felt the cool night breeze dance over the wound as blood began to seep out sluggishly into my hair and clothes.

"Eric?" I whimpered, my eyes meeting his.

His face was contorted with grief. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't say no..."

Ocella loomed above us. "Eric," he chided, shaking his head. "I told you to kill her."

Eric's head snapped up. "It's done," he said hoarsely. "She's lost too much blood."

His maker's laugh was chilling. "Drawing it out? How wonderfully you."

I knew I had only moments left, as fatigue began to overwhelm me. I closed my eyes, no longer strong enough to keep them open, and felt Eric's lips flutter over the delicate skin there. His fingers gripped mine, curling them around something hard and cold.

My locket.

"It's real," he murmured. "Fairy magic… You need to wish you'd never met me."

I wanted to protest but I was too weak, too exhausted.

Eric shook me hard. "Wish it," he urged.

"I wish I'd never met you." My words: the last I heard before finally sinking into oblivion.

0-0-0-0-0

I stood in the courtyard and shivered, not feeling the usual comfort from the sun's rays. Barry came up behind me and I whirled around to face him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"How do you always do that?" he asked, incredulously.

"Oh, um, once I realise I'm being blocked, I know it has to be you." I frowned, a strong sense of déjà-vu flooding over me. "I feel like we've had this conversation before," I murmured, looking around me in confusion.

"Yeah, whatever Stackhouse. I'll get you one of these days, you know," he teased, grinning warmly.

I shook it off as we approached the main door. Taking my pass from my pocket, I ran it through the reader and leaned forward to allow my eye to be scanned.

"Morning, Doctor." Hoyt gave me a friendly grin as I walked in and emptied my pockets, motioning for me to proceed through the security scanner. "Oh. You're not wearing your necklace today," he said, studying his screen absent-mindedly.

I frowned, my hand going to my chest in response. He was right; I hadn't realised I didn't have it on. "Oh, um, I guess I left it in the apartment."

Hoyt nodded, smiling amiably as I picked up my keys and pen at the other end.

Barry proceeded to update me as we made our way towards the patient wing. "It was a fairly quiet night by our standards. But I had to sedate Major Bellefleur again…" Barry's expression was grim. "I think we may need to up his medication."

My head still felt a little foggy but I felt more comfortable on professional ground. "Um, let's try holding the meds for now but up his sessions to twice daily? I thought we made some progress last week, don't you?"

Barry nodded, writing my instructions down.

"Okay… anything else I need to know?" I asked.

Barry smiled thinned. "I've also been meaning to talk to you about Rene…"

I shook my head with a sigh. "I think we should let him go."

"Really?" His eyes went wide. "I thought that was going to take much more convincing."

I was a little confused myself but it felt right. "Um, just thinking about it now... I don't like to judge him by his thoughts alone, but I don't want to risk someone's safety just to prove a point."

Barry nodded solemnly. "I totally agree. Okay, I'll get rid of him today but I'll speak to Portia about the legals."

We carried on walking and something struck me. "Um Barry, after you've spoken to him, get Hoyt to escort him straight out. I don't want him causing any trouble."

"Right," Barry agreed. "Good idea."

"Okay," I sighed. "Anything else?"

Barry shook his head. "Nope. Nothing to report."

I smiled, feeling somehow that a weight had been lifted. "Good. Then let's get to work."

**A/N: As always, I'd love to know your thoughts.**


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